


Digimon Drabbles 3-Humanized AU

by Octopus_the_Kraken



Series: Digimon Humanized AU Series [3]
Category: Digimon - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Brotherly Issues, Cute, Drabbles, F/M, Family Fluff, Family Issues, Family Secrets, Fighting, Foreshadowing, Genderfluid Character, Hate, Humanized, Love, M/M, Mentions of past drug abuse, Metephorical birth, More tags to be added, Mother-Son Relationship, Multi, Murder, Original Character Death(s), Other, Past Child Abuse, Past Relationship(s), Requests, Sleepy Cuddles, Survival, Yaoi, father-son's boyfriend relationship, happy reunion, teenage abandonment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-30
Updated: 2016-12-06
Packaged: 2018-08-18 15:32:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8166955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Octopus_the_Kraken/pseuds/Octopus_the_Kraken
Summary: Requests from; imabludog, ashleighpoole68, projecter, and Quien_Eres. These are for you guys!A set of humanized digimon drabbles with more characters, pairings, and requests from people like you!  This set of drabbles is a little more interesting then the last two. From fighting to violence, experiences from past abuse and neglect, to relationships old and sweet made questionable and confusing by time, to fresh and sour ones that still hurt even when half is still trying to piece it back together. As well as some bitter family ties that still remain open-ended. However, there is still BL/Yaoi, no smut (shockingly), fluff, and cuteness, cuteness forever! But a lot more violence. A lot.





	1. Table of Contents

**Digimon Drabbles 3- Humanized AU**

**Requests from; imabludog, ashleighpoole68, projecter, Quien_Eres**

Gallantmon x Beelzemon

Shoutmon x Lunamon/Crescemon

Dorulumon x Gaomon

Gallantmon x Beelzemon vs. Takato

Laylamon vs. Crusadermon

 

**Human/Character names:**

Beelz “Bells/Imp” Ōkui _[Beelzemon (Tamer ver.)]_

Duke “Gail” Matsuki _[Gallantmon/Dukemon]_

Sayuri Ōkui  _[Ai and Mako’s mom (Tamer Ver.)]_

Joshua _[Ai and Mako’s birth father/Sayuri’s ex-boyfriend]_

Shout "Omni" Kudo _[Shoutmon (Xros Wars)]_

Diana “Luna/Crecy” Konno _[Lunamon (Xros Wars)]_

Beelzebub “Candle/Baal/BB” Ōkui _[Beelzebumon (Xros Wars ver.)]_

Dorul “Drill” Hinomoto _[Dorulumon]_

Mirage “Gao” Norstein _[Gaomon]_

Kyu Kuwashima _[Cutemon]_

Merva Shiraishi _[Mervamon]_

Takato Matsuki _[Takato Matsuki(Tamers ver.)]_

Takehiro Matsuki _[Duke and Takato's father]_

Yoshie Matsuki _[Duke and Takato's mother]_

Layla Kagura _[Laylamon/Lilithmon]_

Rhodonite "Lord/Crusader" Okiayu _[LordKnightmon/Crusadermon]_

Dynasty Miyake _[Dynasmon]_

* * *

More to be added later.

Please enjoy!


	2. A House isn’t a Home Without You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Duke x Bells]

The sound of thunder rolled loudly over the soft music playing in the small apartment. All the lights were dimmed to a medium, making every room seem glazed in honey waves, contrasting around the blackness that blocked out the scenic windows overlooking the street below. The plainness of the apartment amplifying the mild gold hue that befell the three room flat, as a melody fluttered and waned against the walls. The owner of the household, being only half sober on sleep, mulled thoughtlessly as he read over the same page in his book for the third time in the last hour.

Tired and groggy but still refusing to sleep. Beelz was never one to shy away from sleep, he was normally the first of his siblings to fall asleep. Cherishing the privilege to get as much sleep as he desired without worry. His early years of abandonment still to blame for his logic on such a simple thing most found a normal part of life, as well as his near constant state of hunger.

Yet, the recently turned 21-year-old, couldn’t figure out the reasoning for why he refused to sleep; why he continued the torment of staring down the same page of romantic text over and over again. Why he was reading the book at all was lost to him at this point. After barrowing another stack of books from Pastor Ange’s sister-in-law, Angela, who ran the small alleyway book store near the store-front district, the blond –for the most part– randomly picked the first novel on top of the pile, flipped to a decent page within the first-third of the book and started reading. Bells struggled to stop himself from dozing off on the cold loveseat situated adjacent to the full bookshelf in the corner of his very empty bedroom.

Normally his white room would have a little more warmth, a little more life, when the Lord’s boyfriend was there. However, he seemed to be the one vacant on the blonde’s flat for the moment. Duke hadn’t been there since Bell woke up, cold and alone, in bed that morning. Finding that the larger male had been called into the Royal Knight’s HQ earlier than usual, due to police investigations needing back up in a case linked to the Demon Lords new business employees for a backdoor operation. Money was more Barb’s department as he was in charge of the operation, as Luc would rather not deal with having multiple DL’s in cuffs and only have to pay for one bail fine as well. And, though none of them would say it out loud, Bells’ mother would lose it on the older blond if her beloved glutton landed in cuffs.

Looking at the digital clock on his bedside table, Bell moved his glasses to rub the heel of his hand against his eye. 11:47 PM. Duke said he’d be back before 10 in his message. “What the hell, Duke.” He mumbled grudgingly. All day he was fine without seeing the taller; he and his mom went for brunch at a nice place, took Ai and Mako to the park, even let Behemoth go to their alt form –which he hardly ever let them do because of their dog-like tendencies– and play with the youths. For some reason, the night made him miss Duke. Whether it was at his or Duke’s, they almost always slept together, they hardly ever went to bed without the other. They’ve been together for five years and they’ve been doing it for just as long.

The blond groaned finding his frame of mind unhelpful. He dropped the book onto the other end of the loveseat, and swung his legs off. Maybe a drink would help. Pushing the sliding door to his room aside, he entered the main room of his flat, taking a glance at the speaker system as it softly played the ending chorus for “Overload”. Duke never understood how someone like Bell would openly listen to Angels and Airwaves. Seeing them as a more upbeat band for the blond, but he wasn’t complaining about it since the blond would probably counter with why the knight had such a wide collection of E-Dubble and Hollywood Undead. He guessed enjoying American artists was just another one of those things they shared.

By the time he was in the kitchen pouring himself a glass of water from the plastic pitcher in the fridge, the lock mechanisms of his door groaned and sputtered as a familiar key slid into the tumblers. Bell sputtered himself at the sudden loudness of his lock. It was on quiet nights like these he realized he needed to grease up his lock, damn thing was so loud.

For a singular moment the Lord thought about making a second glass of water for the other male, but completely forgot about it when he realized the glass that was in his hand before was on the ground, thankfully in one piece, but his feet and the edges of his purple plaid pajama pants were now cold and wet from the water. Bells’ brain completely rebooted then, lost beyond comprehension, drifting between being there and asleep. And after finally coming to reality again, came back to the puddle his toes were in, and carried on crouching down to pick up the unscathed glass and clean up the pool with a hand towel.

“Bell, you’re still up? I thought you’d be asleep by now.” Duke said, peeling off his blazer. Dark splotches covering the shoulders and sleeves, thick rain was pouring down in patches across the city. Duke’s hair and the collar of his red button-up were damp with water, even his tie had a few large dots on it too. He looked frigid; his nose and ears were getting a bit of a rose color on them, his eyes had dark hue under them, and his lips were pale. His broad shoulders quivered in the door way as he tugged at his tie and kicked off his shoes. “I didn’t worry you did I, sweetie?”

“…N-no, no, you didn’t.” His brain stumbled, rolled over itself like worked taffy, sleep and relief blowing bubbles in his head as he registered Duke’s frozen stance, before feeling the sharp popping of being grounded once more. “In fact, you worry me more now that you’re home.”

Duke gave him a look, Bells then relapsed; thinking over his sentence for a second, believing he said something wrong. ‘In fact, you worry me more now that you’re ho-.’ “Home.” Bell hardly ever called his apartment or anywhere else home. Stopped calling any place besides his mother’s home. It was a fear thing, attachment to a location that wasn’t permanent. Another thing inflicted by his early years. Bell sputtered outright this time; feeling his face warm up as Duke let a small smile garnish his face.

“I-ignore that! I-I uh! What I mean is-! What I meant was-! I’m tired ignore everything I say tonight, alright!” Bell gargled out, his brain readying to collapse with how tired he was. Was he really this pathetic, he couldn’t function two and a half hours after his usual curfew. Apparently, if he was scrambling like a scared kitten seeing its own reflection. Before he knew it, the taller was in his personal space.

Duke crowded Bells’ space in typical fashion; eclipsing the smaller waist with his barkers’ arms, filling the space between that creamy neck and the curve of the half covered collarbone, and digging his nose into the warm woolly flap of the large black sweater’s stretched turtleneck. And on impulse Bell reflexively wrapped his arms around the larger, stuffing his hot cheeks into the damp crook of Duke’s shoulder. The sound of “Parasomnia” playing softly in the background as the first verse bled into the second and the room began to feel so warm and velvety with the softer sound of rain pattering on the windows in the other room.

“I’m home.” Duke muttered gleefully, a smile painted across his face as he kissed the column of the skin in front of him. Bell didn’t say anything for several moments, too tired and too cozy in the other’s arms to try forming words.

“Welcome home.” He finally whispered into the red button-up. Everything was hazy and blind to the sounds of the music finally breaking into lyrics before dropping into alien silence, never once noticing the feeling of being laid down in the sheets of his bed with Duke not far behind. Yeah, it certainly did feel like home when Duke was there.


	3. This is Our Little Family Secret and This Will Be Our Burden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Violence, Murder, Mentions of past child and drug abuse, Toxic relationship, Slight cannibalism]  
> [You have been warned!]

Everything was a scrabble. A rush of violence and abrupt noises. Commotion rumbling as three sets of legs and four small bodies fumbled from the Living room up the flight of stairs. Ai quickly moving to the window to open it, however Imp followed to pull her away from jumping down to the tree branch that was too far for her to reach. Pushing her to sit by the bed, giving her a path to slide under it if the time came. Candle closing the door and going over to place Mako down next to the girl, issuing him to follow her if they had to.

The bellowing noises quickly rising to more staggering volumes downstairs. The noise resulting in the younger two to start tearing up, memories of old rising as the noise did. Imp hushed the two whispering calming words that had both stealing themselves a little before cracking and returning back to tears as the sound of metal clattering across a tile floor. Hushing them once more, Imp moved to the door, Candle following, knowing what Imp was doing. The younger blond trying to pull the older back into the room, but all was in vain when he turned and pointed his gloved finger at the other.

“Candle, whatever you do, do NOT open this door unless I say otherwise.” The words felt sick to spit at the younger. It felt like sludge and oil sticking between his tongue and palette. And it only further sickened him having to look at the horrified look the scarlet eyes before him gave, through the thick wells of tears sitting on the corners. It physically hurt his soul as he forced the bedroom door closed.

Imp held back tears for several moments, letting the noises around him pool and sit in his skull; of Ai and Mako crying on the other side of the door, Candle trying to hush them in vain of his own weeping, Sayuri and Joshua yelling abuses at each other in the spitting fire of boiling rage and anger.

He had taken worse on the streets. Taken the abuse of cracked out parents paying more for the addictive kick of snorting white smoke and fucking sloppy with the audience of their own kids on the kitchen table, then food to put in their bellies. Taken being sold like cattle to slaughter for more crack and blow to abuse their internal systems on, wiggling loose the ties and scrambling for his brother’s safety at his own demise. Taken three years of living wild, focus lost on his own wellness and just wanting his brother to live on, no matter what worse could come. Three years of starved scavenging, stealing, and dreading every moment that ticked by. He’d taken far worse.

But it was the fact that he no longer lived that way, Candle no longer had to live that way, that made this moment feel worse. That the woman in the kitchen screaming at the man she gave so many chances to, was fighting to keep them here, in a home. That’s what hurt the most, because when it came down to it, she was basically saving Candle’s life, she was saving his life. That’s what made him both sick and happy. That there was someone to treat Candle like their child, like someone’s pride and joy. Someone who puts them first, someone who loved them. That there was someone who cared in his life now. They had a home now; he had a home now. And damn it all to hell if he wasn’t going to fucking fight for it!

With a new determination, Imp moved to the stairs toward the shouting and anger. Shuffling to the doorway of the kitchen, he peaked around the corner to see Joshua leaning back over the sink, Sayuri towering over him in rage as she spat venom in his face. Neither noticing anything other than each other in the violent space. Imp moved quickly and quietly, scuttled behind the island counter, where the block of knives was set and out of reach of the two adults. Imp looked to his hands and thought carefully, weighted his options in his head. Before, quietly, grabbing the biggest knife from the set, then sank down to the floor looking around the island to the two screaming and howling at one another, still none the wiser to his position.

The argument shifted, Joshua grew bold in the violence, thinking he could just make her cry and the match would be his. He plunged head first with his statement, putting his whole self into it, in the assumption that it would result in the outcome he desired. That would be the greatest mistake he would ever make against a woman like Sayuri.

“You’re just another slut on the street, willing to fuck anybody with a dick! So how about you shut your whore mouth and start doing what your ass should be doing when I show up; get me beer and suck my dick!” That was the final thread severed, Sayuri coiled and swung. The warm gush that met her fingertips as her sharp nails sunk into the flesh of his temple as her palm came down harshly and tearing the skin as she fell through the ever gracefully swoop of her arm. The force of her palm slamming into his face first sent the man across the counter edge and at the wall several feet away, the right side of his face smashing into the doorframe then crumpling to the floor. Joshua recoiled hard then, never had Sayuri raised a finger in anger at him, let alone slap him with enough force to hit a wall. The realization of his situation hit him as fast as the foot crushing down with the force of a car crash into his groin, and holding down on the toes. The loud burst of air releasing from his weak lungs was the only response he got out before Sayuri was howling at him once again.

“Slut? Slut?! The only slut here in this entire house is the pathetic spineless cunt below me right now! You’d lay down with a fucking horse if it had money! I’ve given you chance after fucking chance to repent your ways, to be a father, to be a boyfriend, get your act together and be a real fucking man! The only “man” here is the one with a heel in your sniveling worm of a dick! And you know what?! I’m done giving you chances!” Sayuri leaned harder onto the foot propped in Joshua’s crotch, boiling with anger, and readying to stamp on the stupid face of the fuckboy below her. Before hearing the clink of metal on tile.

Sayuri looked toward the sound, immediately wanting to rewind the last couple of minutes, seeing Imp standing there in the kitchen with a large knife in hand, the very tip scrapping on the floor. Having kicked a stray pot, purposefully making the ruckus if his upturned foot, propped by the heel was to state anything. Silence overcame the room for several moments. Imp stared at her with something between fear, pride and muteness; a wild look that was drawn from a survival instinct. It was thoughtful and patient, choosing the time and place, the worth and loss of a decision. He turned the knife loosely in his hand now holding the handle by the base, he stuck the rounded end of the handle at Sayuri in a gesture for her to take it. “You… may need this.”

Imp, was hardly ever wrong in his decisions of survival.

Sayuri looked between the knife and Imp’s face, then to Joshua. The man’s face was etched in horror, fear, and pleading terror. Emotions she hadn’t seen on his face since she told him she was pregnant, the memories of both days reopening wounds that had soured her feelings and licked thick sparks of rage to ignite; wounds that had her hand moving of its own accord. Gripping the pitch handle in a white knuckle grip, she looked at the blade with almost admiration; it had been sharpened recently, all nine inches of silver steel.

“The last time I saw that face you’re making was when I told you I was pregnant. Try ordering me to get an abortion, you fucking spineless shit?” She’s looking directly at his face then, a wicked smile peeling across her face. Her teeth bleeding into daggers of their own –sharp and thick, readying to plunge into anything. Her eyes blacking to bright hazel rings in a sea of ink and oil. Her feet had since moved, dropping to her knees straddling the skinny girth of Joshua’s waist, digging her knees into the boney ridges of his ribs. “I should have known from that moment, I should have left you, kicked you to the crib and changed addresses. Why I didn’t, was based on pity for your whore ass.”

Her arm extended high above her, slow and dramatically. Imp standing no farther than three feet away, his presence was lost to her in that moment of redemption. She was absorbed in this moment, in her moment. Drank in the tears in the man’s eyes, the pathetic look of being a useless being, not fighting back, not trying to get away; just lying there. Hoping his looks would save him again, assumed his ugly fucking mug would be his ticket to escaping consequence. Like he always, fucking, did! An overgrown child thinking he deserved to get away with everything! Bull- fucking -shit! “Today’s the day, you suffer the consequences. I am vengeance’s revenge. The embodiment of Hatred itself. And you will feel what true hatred is!” Plunging the metal blade with such a downward force that the sound of tile cracking and braking could be heard over the scream of agony.

The warm spray, the color filling up, the smell flowing free, the sounds muted, lost in the practice. Everything was silent, a deft experience of all senses. The color was a foggy haze that thickened with every ten ton repeating stamp of metal breaking bones and puncturing flesh. The feel of the warm liquid staining up the length of her arms, splaying dirty airborne fingertips across her face, creeping into her shirt and shorts, smearing permanent reminders into the flesh of her bare legs. But the smell was electric, spurred her on more than the rest, the stench of copper in the air riding the heavy gusts of exhales and following the trail of gasping inhales. The sensation was electric buzzing cherry blossom kisses across the skin.

Time was an illusion at that point. An idea created by man to give the feeling of control. Man, at that moment, didn’t deserve control. The Embodiment of Revenge and Hate deserved all control, respect, and the right to do wrong.

The black cobweb crystals closing in on the garden tides with a fire lily heart.

It felt like an hour had passed, since the noises died out to heavy pants and quiet drips; that was in Sayuri’s mind. But truthfully it was the end of the horrible slurping, the guttural thirst that gulped like fish on docks. Imp, though closely neutral to the act of murder committed before him by a woman who deserved better on a man that deserved nothing, became both disturbed by the sight and deeply attentive by his mother’s actions. Burying the knife in the corner of Joshua’s eye socket, then leaning over to drink the red slop that was Joshua’s gouged chest. A pool of slushy-like fluid; a mix of blood and shredded bits of muscle and tissue. The obnoxious noise that was slurping and growling jaw snaps, grated the young blonde’s ears.

Yet the idea, the concept of devouring the fresh kill while being consumed by the blind feeling of doing wrong, it flipped a switch in his brain, sparked nerves in him he never felt. It made him…think. About the act, the taste, the true feeling of doing. But also the desire to do it himself. Mentally, he felt exhilarating on the inside.

The gluttonous maw yawned and salivated within the emerald belly of ebony feathers.

Silence stretched over the whole house, the entire city almost. An atmosphere of realization, horror, pride, and completion. A feeling that rose up like the mighty tides of a tsunami, and crashed down like a leaf on the wind. Questions rose and died in the throats that aborted them; children never to be. They acted on deaf instinct, though sluggish and drowned alike the tile cracks occupied with blood.

Sayuri dragged the once whole Joshua onto a torn set of sheets, wrapping the mangled, gushing, and slightly dismembered corpse in the cotton sheeting. Dragging the carcass to the kitchen half door, then through the side yard. Thanking every step of the way that the entire perimeter of the yard was surrounded by five-foot-tall hedging and two feet of thick picket fencing.

Imp pulled a large sponge and a bucket from under the kitchen sink. A splash of bleach, water and some rather smelly soap made it in the bucket, before being sloshed around with the sponge and Imp’s rubber gloved hand. Slashing noisily in the lagoon of ruby fluid; moving and staining. Slowly the puddle became less and less as the sponge became a chameleon with red soapy bubbles. Cleaning the bucket was less troublesome then the floor. The sponge; unsalvageable.

Sayuri came back in, they shared expressionless faces with one another. Shovels were pulled free from the yard. They were putting in new rose bushes in the back, a medium sized trench next to the power box. A depth of about a foot-an-a-half already dug up in the slot. A final side glance between the woman and the pre-teen was the last tie made, the knot that made them associates in murder. Mother and son, a bond so cherished as the greatest union in family ties. Now bonded in the murder of a man so absorbed in his own escape of responsibilities that he attempted to elude being a father, a boyfriend, and what could have been a husband. Dead.

Within a half-an-hour, the foot-an-a-half trench became a five-footer in the soft soil of plant feed and manure. This proceeded till the depth hit rock bottom, literally. Six feet deep. The dead husk of Joshua and the now stained cotton hit the hard sharp rocks that made the base with a satisfying thud, tear, and a wet popping squish. The steady beat of thudding dirt hitting the body, heartbeats of earth, paced as the soil rose to the pervious depth before. The rose bushes were placed down into the holes and filled as well.

Normal. Everything looked normal. Fresh and clean. Life moving on. The illusion called time was moving again. New life. A new life. Free of the hate, but replaced with a burden. A light one, one that would break them later, break on the deathbed of one or the other. But not now, not when the air felt clear, fresh, and pungent with metal. Silence. A silence that only came with the notion of getting away with something awful. Sayuri’s voice was a hush of emotionless wind, a dead threat that would be buried as deeply as that hole was in the ground, where the violence won’t come back in the form that was Joshua. Another would arise later. One way or another.

The birth of Gluttony would not die in its infancy.

Neither will the crystal cobwebs of the floral Hatred.

“This is our little family secret and this will be our burden.”


	4. The Queen to King the Questionable Query

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Shout x Crecy; mentioned one-sided Shout x BB]

Fourth grade. That was the year they said they’d always be together. Shout saying, he was always going to be her prince charming, always be at her side. Him in his little red and white sneakers, his dark brown shorts, red and white striped shirt, and his forever unruly, bright red hair. Always marching around with a stick and a paper crown that was slightly too big for his head, having it fall over his electric blue eyes, catch his nose ever now and then.

Luna saying, she was his princess and that she’d throw herself into danger just to have him save her. How they’d get married and be King and Queen. Her soft pink hair tamed in braided buns wrapped like little gifts in light purple ribbons, one thick strand swooping over her face, a gold crescent ring marking the center of her forehead. Her pink dress tied with a braided gold waist, loose gold bracelets always jingling quietly, and a crescent moon pendent tied around her thin neck with a pink ribbon.

They were cute kids playing on the playground, chanting child’s play, in sync to the last beat. It was almost considered the to-be boy-next-door love story.

But those were wishful times to think of it. Fifth grade came around, Luna started getting homeschooled, Shout made other friends. Neither forgot about each other, always held on to the idea of the King and Queen reuniting. However, the years past, Shout started questioning his likes and dislikes, came to the conclusion that girls didn’t interest him as much as boys, fell hard for a reaper in a library. By the time sophomore year came around, Shout had come to the conclusion that he was gay, he had a crush on and was being teased by the younger brother of one of the Demon Lords, he had barely come out to his fraternal twin brother, Taiki, and his friends were trying to start a rock band. He assumed it was a good first few steps to being an adult or at least be a sophomore.

Yet he still felt a nagging feeling in the back of his head, a knot tying itself into the loops and twists of his intestines. Something that he should have been focusing on, something he wasn’t thinking about. Someone he hadn’t seen in a long time.

* * *

 

It was like a scene in a movie. Like a ghost from his past just manifested itself and was gliding across the long hall of lockers to him. Everyone’s eyes taking in the view as she moved through. Every boy was practically drooling at her presence, every girl gawked as she walked past. Not at all caring about the stares she was receiving. Just locking eyes with him at the other end of the corridor. How many years had it been seen they last saw each other again? Five? Six?! Shout couldn’t care less at that moment. Not when all his friends’ ramblings were turning into white noise as he unconsciously moved a few steps to see her as she moved in slow motion toward him.

Luna had grown a lot since fourth grade. A lot. No longer was she the little girl in the pink dress he once knew, playing in the park pretending to be a princess. No, she was very different. She was a queen that stomped on the idea of having a king.

The little pale pink buns wrapped in purple ribbons were gone, exchanged for four long pink dreads framing the sides of her face. Two thick, loose strands draping from the center of her forehead to the large black bow holding the rest of her gorgeous flowing hair back, along with the two silver chopsticks push pinned into the knot. Her face had grown sharper, more defined, compared to her rounder childhood face. The crest on her forehead didn’t change much, a silver crescent. It was laxer though, no longer the defined gold ring it used to be. It complimented the sun kiss of her face and the pair of black cat-eye glasses she wore. Her sight apparently faltering to some degree. Yet her eyes seemed to remain the same large, pale magenta they always were, however her lashes had become thicker, darker, and framed her irises perfectly. Her lips a glossy and plain color, lip-gloss. Shout could only imagine what flavor it was. Maybe strawberry, she always did like strawberries.

Her pink dress deserted for a blue and white striped sleeve shirt with double zeros on the front and a white button up underneath it. Layering a grey half jacket with black shoulders and singular spikes on each one. Silver bracelets rattled around both wrists, a silver moon watch ticking away on her left, and a flowy black mini skirt that stopped in between mid-thigh and knee length. Her long legs clad with white thigh highs with gold crescent edges, bleeding into her black and white kicks.

But what really made the difference between then and now so striking was her very womanly figure. She had grown to be much taller, about 5’8”, while Shout, at 5’4”, was waiting on his next growth spurt. Her hourglass figure came in hard and her slightly tight clothing did nothing in hiding it, especially not with her wide hips, plump thighs, and her rather impressive breasts.

She was a gorgeous ghost to see, Shout felt his heartbeat thud like a boulder down a hill, felt his face turn magma hot, and heard that voice rip through his very being. Oh, even her voice sounded more wondrous, all sultry and innocent but still the undertone sounded like the same girl he loved.

“Shout, is it really you?” she asked, obviously not entirely sure it was him after all those years of being apart. It was only then that Shout realized he had wandered several feet away from his friends, and though he could not see them he assumed they were either watching him now, or they were still lost in their discussion.

“H-Hi, Luna. You, you look absolutely gorgeous!” he stuttered pathetically, it felt like freshman year all over again! Only this time instead of a slim Arabian-looking blond male who believed in Silicalia and instantly had a crush on, it was with a girl who had always made him feel something he now knew as love and who knew him like the back of her hand.

“It’s actually Crecy now, and thank you! Oh, Shout, it’s so good to see you again!” Crecy said, leaning in to tug the ginger into a hug. Her arms looping around his neck and her head pressed to the side of his, her breasts being a slight obstacle, but Crecy didn’t bat an eye at it.

Shout was frozen, however, the smell of her perfume filling his nose as he breathed in her scent -cherries, brown sugar and vanilla with a little honey. Gods, she smelt like what a fancy French bakery would smell like. After a moment, Shout wrapped his arms around her torso, smiling over her shoulder. He missed her, he really did. But he felt strange. The last time he felt this way was when Baal finally warmed up enough to him last year, that he actually gave him a hug for the first time. It was akin to warm bubbles in his stomach, like a bubbly bathtub with helium in it, it floated up to his chest and clogged up his windpipe with soapy suds. But, he was gay, he came to that conclusion some time ago. How could he feel love for a girl when he liked another guy?

The hug ended, but they talked on. ‘How’ve been?’, ‘Anything new?’, ‘What have you been up to?’, like old friends do. It was quick but comforting, loose and engaging. Crecy was homeschooled from fifth to sixth grade, transferred to a different public school for two years, went back to homeschooling, took a trip or two to Hawaii and Alaska over in America. Shout had made friends here and there in school, Taiki started dating Ange in the seventh grade, he was getting leashed into being the lead singer of a garage band at Ballista’s urging, had traveled at most three-hours outside the city to visit relatives for one reason or another.

“Oh, class starts in a few minutes, but I want to talk with you more!” Crecy whined slightly. “Hey, give me your number, I want to see if we can hang out after school and maybe go get something to eat?” she exclaimed with a big grin splitting her face as she pulled her phone out to start punching in the digits. Shout couldn’t help the warm soapy suds that traveled into his head, his face began to glow saying every number with a hiccup of giggles, scratching the back of his head awkwardly the whole time.

“…I’m, really glad to see you again. Diana.” Shout muttered so quietly it was almost inaudible. But Crecy heard him loud and clear. For a moment, she just looked at the shorter; red-faced, awkward and nervous. Shout looked weak in the knees, lost, and out of his mind –like a girl himself asking out a crush. She smiled first, giggled a little, then held her hand in front of her mouth to prevent herself from howling out laughing. She leaned down and kissed his nose, pressed their foreheads together to rub noses. This only made Shout even redder, but still he smiled a little.

“I’m glad to see you again too, Shouts.” And with that she said bye, and scampered off to her class. Shout stood there watching her go, ruffling his hair aggressively as he thought for a moment, turning slowly to start walking to class too. Only to see Ballista, Star, Kyu, Drill, Knight, Taiki, Angie, Jeremy, Nene, Sparrow, and Christopher. All of them were looking at him like he had just turned into an iguana that had telepathy. Taiki looked more confused than the rest, however, that was to be expected when your twin had the loosest of grasps on what your sexual preferences were.

There were several seconds of dead silence between the five feet of space, before Kyu squeaked out fan-girlishly, “SHOUT, YOU HAVE A GIRLFRIEND?!?!” Multiple faces broke into smiles and jests at the flustered ginger. Star and Ballista being true bros, encouraged Shout with not-at-all encouraging words.

“You sheer know how to pick them, brother! Did you see her rack?! She’s loaded!” Star exclaimed.

“Stars, we’ve been friends since the second grade! Don’t say that about Crecy!” Shout’s face was practically blending into his hair now. He wasn’t into Crecy, he was after Baal, err, BB now. The ginger buried his face in his hands, Gods his face felt hot.

The pestering went on until the bell, when all his friends faces finally turned away to move to class leaving Shout to march in alone down to the library for his free period. Though BB had moved on and Shout had theoretical control over the room, Shout never turned on the lights, liked the library better with the lights off. It reminded him of the tall blond, he found it cooler and more pleasant than the sun. The image of Baal in the dark made Shout’s mind wander to images of the taller male’s curved figure wrapped in white fabric, but also of now BB, coming back from the Spring holidays dressed in black and ripped from exercise, shirtless and draped in black sheets.

Yet images of Crecy came up too. Sitting on a bench looking up at the moon during the cherry blossom season, wearing a kimono that was perfect for her; violet, blue and white, floral patterns. She looked happy, arms out stretched to him to come and sit with her. She looked perfect. Just like BB always did.

Then the image of BB leaning back into a thick nest of pillows wearing his dark jeans with chains, the full moon playing the part of a make-believe headboard. While Crecy, glasses gone, hair down, slowly slid in alongside the blond in nothing but a white button-up that was a few sizes too big, but still not big enough to really conceal her breasts or fall past her hips all that well; stopping to just barely cover her. Both smirking devilishly as Crecy’s hands trailed up BB’s abs, and BB’s traveling down Crecy’s waist.

“What. The. Fuck.” Shout bellowed loudly as the image fully stained the backs of his eyeballs. Leaning back in his chair, hands in his hair. Shout was confused, unable to decide which images he liked better. Option number three, number three was the best. And be damned if he knew what that meant. He was at a loss about it all; lost, confused and… “No.”

Shout looked down at his crotch.

“Fuck.”


	5. I Want to do Right By You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Past Drill x Gaoga]

Drill wanted to die. Wanted to wake up at home with a terrible case of the cold sweats and have his mom walk in telling him he was going to be late for school again. However, he wasn’t asleep, nor going home anytime soon, and his mom was the last person he thought he’d ever get to see again. And even if he could go back home he doubted he’d ever want to lie down on that mattress with all the filthy memories stained in it, via the form of sweat, lube and cum. God, he kind of hoped his step-dad burned his stuff, or at least just threw it all away.

Two years. Two whole years had gone by and still not a word. Not from his mom, not his step-dad, no one in his family. Not a single blood relative had said a word to him for two-hell-inducing-years. He expected after at least a few months his mom would call and ask if he was alright, found a place to stay, and, at the most optimistic moment, ask if he needed some money sent his way. However, he got nothing; no phone call, no face-to-face, not even a letter. Drill at some point assumed his step-dad was restricting her from trying to contact him, or, worse yet, convinced her to forget the existence of her only child.

Drill might have been a big tough guy with the most neutral expression to ever exist, but he felt like dropping down and crying most days following his banishment. He thanked every star in the sky a thousand times over that he had Kyu and the Kuwashima family in his life. They loved him a lot and opened their home to him without a second thought. Melissa loved cooking for them all and enjoyed it immensely when Drill would offer his assistance in the kitchen with her. Ben always looked forward to talking with Drill about ranging topics, never once did anyone argue or get angry at anyone else. Unlike his step-dad, always looking for something to yell at Drill for.

The sound of the oven timer going off woke Drill from his thoughts. The café was practically empty today. Kyu sitting at the counter drinking his cup of hot chocolate and nibbling on a croissant. A woman he currently knew as Ms. Angela Kamiya, a pastor at the Temple Light Church and worked alongside her brother-in-law Ange Takaishi, she was sitting at one of the wood and brass tables over by the fake tree molded into the corner of the café –where the front window met the wall, separating the coffee house from the crafts shop next-door– sipping on her dirty-mixed iced expresso while reading over something on her laptop. Drill mentally called her pretty for probably the hundredth time since he started working at Bearrock.

Pulling the tray out just in time to not burn the sugar cakes. Drill moved them to the cooling rack on top of the oven, then moved over to look at the clock. The large ornate thing took up the entire wood wallpapered wall, the hands on non-existent numbers, however could still be read. 1:04pm. Drill mentally went through the amount of time it would take for the cakes to cool and how long the frosting would take. Opting to wait, Drill turned to Kyu, readying to ask if the pinkette wanted another drink, but was cut off by the sound of the front door bell ringing as the door was opened. All three occupants looking up at the startling noise in the silence. If Drill wasn’t alone on shift he would have made someone else serve the bastard.

Mirage “Mach-G” Inui. A full head taller than Drill yet thinner in the hips, the two-toned bluenette was the bane of Drill’s life with his red and black aviator sunglasses, scarred nose, and stupid half grin. Drill felt somewhat better at seeing the plain look that was on the other’s face, granted he could only see half of it with the glasses in the way and his soft blue-white fur lined hood pulled up and slightly damp. Some slight rain out in the overcast sky. The carrot-haired looked at Mach aggressively, sparing a glance at Kyu who looked more contained but still the younger shared no sympathy for the ‘wolf’ –Drill hated himself for knowing the terminology he so pathetically experimented with while with the taller.

Mach pulled his hood down, shook loose drops off his head, letting his light and dark blue locks flow and form back to his perfectly place mess of a fauxhawk. He looked over at Ms. Kamiya, nodding and waving shyly at her, who responded with a smile and a nod back, before he turned his gaze to the counter. His glasses got pushed up his forehead as he walked over to the two high schoolers. Mach completely ignored Kyu as he settled in the space between the register and the edge of the counter. Concerned gold eyes locked with angry yellow, both sharing memories and past mistakes. The older; for leaving the note. The younger; for falling for it in the first place.

“Dorul-”

“Don’t.” Drill wasn’t doing this. He wasn’t going to listen to the fling that cost him his home. He wasn’t going to hear any of it; not the “I’m sorry” ’s, not the “I’ll make it better” ‘s, not the “Let me do right by you” ‘s, none of it. He lost his firsts, he lost his home, he lost his mom, and he lost his pride because of this guy. The last thing he was going to lose was his self-respect.

“Dorul, please. Just-”

“No. Order or leave.” Drill said standing as far away from Mach as the barista bar allowed.

Mach sighed heavily, tapped his fingers on the counter, rolled his shoulders, let his sleeveless white parka fall into his hand as it slid off his arms. Hung it on one of the built-in hooks under the counter against the wall. Then slid his ass-less-chapped, jean clad rear into the seat on the end, two seats over from Kyu, who looked slightly confused at the man. “Black, iced, one sugar.”

Drill and Kyu now looked at one another both a little confused. Nevertheless, Drill moved to make the requested drink, not happy about it yet he relaxed a little. Mach, meanwhile, never said a word. Just sat slightly melancholy watching as Drill worked, didn’t take his eyes away for a second as the younger moved about the space. Drill every now and then would glance up at the oxidized mirror edge around the big chalk board menu behind the bar, the angle was terrible and he only ever saw half of Mach, but he refused to look directly at the older.

Drill however paid attention to the details. Mach had been out of high school for about a year and a half at that point. He cut his hair, dressed a little better, the scar was new, along with the tattoos on his left arm and across his pec. Drill mentally questioned if a man could wear a red tank top that low and loose without having it fall off. The shirt is question was stretched significantly, the straps were thin, the front hung below the man’s pecs, thankfully he wore bandages that wrapped around the length of his torso. Starting from the midway of his pecs, down to the line of his boxers under his jeans. Nothing special, no real reason behind it, he just wore them like that just like he wore them around his ankles to the arches of his feet and around his forearms to his knuckles. It helped him with his kickboxing, made him feel contained and centered.

When the cold coffee was done steeping, the tall glass was filled with ice followed by the coffee and a single sugar cube. A long black stirring peg clinked and rattled the contents. And before Drill moved away with the glass to pass to the man, his muscle memory kicked in and a single drop of vanilla extract made it in the glass. Drill didn’t even notice he did it. Mach did.

As Drill went to place the glass down, Mach met him halfway, his fingerless gloved hand brushing against the younger’s, a smile somewhere between sad and reminiscent broke across his face. Drill looked at him, raised an eyebrow at him, dared him to try and do something else, but let go nevertheless. Drill then walked away, through the black curtain that was half pinned up into the backroom where the kitchen and storage room was.

Mach just chuckled to himself and drank his coffee, he inhaled a good third of it in one go. That’s when Kyu’s staring got some notice. The short pinkette was barely five foot, and his look of aggression looked adorable with his big doe eyes and pudgy face. Mach looked at him, and smiled largely at him, he got nothing in return from the boy, except words.

“You’re the jerk who got Drill-san kicked out of his home, broke his heart, and shattered his pride.” Kyu’s squeaky voice was like booming thunder in the dead silent café. Mach’s face dropped and eyes widened. Was he really getting persecuted by a kid barely tall enough for his feet to reach the first rung on the very stool he was sitting on? Yep, he was. And it was kind of freaky. But Mach chuckled nonetheless.

“Heh, do you all really think I was trying to get him caught?” A sad gloomy smile split his face again as he looked down at the glass in his hands.

“No.” Kyu’s aggressive look softened to a more somber one. “But you still haven’t done anything about it.” This was true, to most Mach hasn’t done much, except repeatedly try to talk to Drill about it.

He’s chuckling again, “That’s only with Drill, I haven’t gotten much progress with him. But, his parents on the other hand.” Mach stopped himself, took a large gulp of his coffee. Kyu looked deeply interested now. “Did he tell you the whole story of what happened?”

Kyu didn’t answer immediately. Sat there for a good few seconds in silence, expecting him to continue, but didn’t. “No.”

The wolf chuckled again. And took another full gulp of his coffee, half his glass was now gone. “After that night, I had to leave before his parents showed up. I left a note on his table, saying I had to leave and that I wanted to see him again. Said that I really liked him and that I wanted to be with him. How I never found someone like him before and that I wanted us to be something. I wanted to do right by him. I didn’t want it to be a fling, I honestly didn’t. But apparently, his old man found it first and kicked him out cause of how far up his ass his head was. Dorul hasn’t wanted anything to do with me since. I don’t even think he ever got the chance to read it.” Mach tapped on his glass with the tips of his fingertips. His eyes prickled a little but nothing came of it.

Kyu looked at the larger, he felt terrible that he himself judged this man so horribly a few moments ago. “He didn’t.” Kyu said after a moment. Drill never said anything about reading the note Mach left, just that he left a note. “At least, he never said anything about reading it.” Silence stretched over the café for a moment, feeling twice that with the sound of soft rain pattering on the windows. “So, what did you mean by Drill-san’s parents?”

Before Mach could give him a response, a clattering noise erupted from the kitchen and several hushed curses were heard in the following fumbling of metal on flooring. Drill came back out of the kitchen with a mildly irritated look, going over to the bar he opened a small drawer under the granite top, he pulled out two clothespins and a reel of string before disappearing back into the kitchen with a huff. The sounds of a girl fumbling and apologizing could be heard faintly as more clanking metal was heard. After several minutes of silence, a tall woman, somewhere in her early twenties, came out of the kitchen. She immediately gravitated over to Mach, without even looking at him. Her large breasts almost gushing out of her white button-up shirt as she leaned as far over the counter as she possibly could, and thrusting her face right into his.

“Hi, would you like a refill?” she asked batting her eyes flirtatiously. However, it lost all attractiveness with her snake-like gold eyes. Her smile lost all sweetness when her many fang-like teeth appeared from behind her purple lips.

Mach said and did nothing, he didn’t even move away when she thrust herself into his personal space. “No thank you, what happen to Dourl?”

She frowned, and moved back to stand up straight. Her teal hair was braided down to her knees, her red skirt had a slit up the left leg to reveal the metal garter holding her black thigh highs to her muscled thigh. Her sleeves were rolled up to show her prosthetic left arm. Her name tag was moved over significantly by her breasts but her name glinted just right to be readable. Merva still didn’t respond for a minute trying to accumulate a response. However, she didn’t need to, Drill came out of the kitchen pointing at Mach with a look that gave no room for rebuttal. “You. With me. Now.”

Mach didn’t hesitate, sliding off his chair and following the carrot haired male through the curtain into the kitchen. Leaving Merva and Kyu at the counter. Merva immediately moved over to Kyu, leaning over the counter to also be in his face a little but nowhere near as pushy as she was with Mach. Her smile came back tenfold and looked extremely giddy. “Tell me everything.” Kyu, didn’t falter in explaining to her the entire story between the two males.

All while Ms. Kamiya sat in her corner of the café listening and writing down the whole thing. Angela, though she didn’t talk about it often, was a part-time author and was looking for her next short story to write. And though she knew it was an invasion of privacy, she was deeply inspired by the tale of Mach and Drill. As she typed away at her laptop the details she overheard from Kyu, she thought loosely on what the title of this work would be. By the time, Kyu was finished telling Merva about them, Angela had a name for the story. She hoped that Mach swayed Drill in some way as she left waving goodbye to the pinkette and the teal haired on her way out. She also hoped _I Want to do Right by You_ would do well in the long run.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so, personal story time. A friend of mine from Anime club is Female-to-Male transgender and gay, who recently turned 18. 
> 
> He had been planning on coming out to his parents for a while and was dreading it for weeks. His family is Muslim, and he was so terrified that he would be kicked out that he started packing emergency supplies and an inflatable mattress in the club’s closet, he even started looking at homeless shelters near the school. It was awful watching him be so pent up and horrified about it. Being in his shoes was an entire experience that made me feel sick trying to imagine; let alone be in.
> 
> On the day, he was going to come out he came to school for the first 3 class periods. We were all in the club room and he was practically bawling his eyes out. I felt like crying just watching the tears roll down his face, let alone holding him in my arms crying into my shoulder. It was horrible. 
> 
> Thankfully his family was excepting, if not just a little in shock, and he wasn’t kicked out. Yet, that experience was the worst torture I think I had ever seen him go through. And, though we live in California, that has happened to many of my friend’s friends and even to my cousin with her birth-father; coming out and getting kicked out. 
> 
> I’m not trying to lighten the experience; I’m calling those parents cunts and hypocrites and not real parents for shit. I’m also saying if your friends are trying to come out to their parents about anything, stand by them, because it’s the most intimidating thing in the entire world especially if they’re still in high school or don’t have the money or the skills to live on their own as an adult.
> 
> No one chooses their sexual orientation or their gender; but people can choose to love them no matter what or to be the most despicable piece of shit to ever walk the earth for hating someone for being who they truly are. Always remember that.


	6. I got Married in front of a Polybius Machine under a Neon Disco Ball

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Duke x Bells vs. Takato]

If there was one thing that pissed Bells off more than any other thing in the world -and that’s saying a lot, it was Duke’s older brother, Takato.

Duke and Takato were close; always had, always will. Takato was only a year older than Duke, but he always acted like he was far older, due to Duke’s learning and verbal disabilities growing up. Duke had managed to outgrow them and was now more capable than Takato, but Takato never learned that though.

At 18, Takato moved to an apartment with his girlfriend, Jerri, a few cities over, had a decent job at a dollar store, and hardly came home. When he did, he was as kind and friendly as always, he was even nostalgic at times. However, he did have the tendency of overstepping his boundaries. He would do it to his parents every now and again, and they would put a stop to that immediately. Yet, he mostly did it with Duke and his friends.

Takato would make an offhand comment that wasn’t at all appropriate, everything would go silent and everyone would stare at him, they’d wait with irritated faces at him till he apologized. He hardly did, and when he did it was because they’d try to walk away. It wasn’t the most adult way to respond, but neither was Takato.

But beyond everything, Takato despised Bells with a passion, that there was a running joke about Jerri never getting nearly as much passion from him during sex, then what he put into hating the DL. Takato always hated Bells, ever since they first met in middle school. Why, was a mystery to all. He just hated the blond. And it hurt Duke a lot, especially when he and Bell started dating. Duke never told Takato back then, he still hadn’t officially done so. However, he knew Bells felt the same way to the older; spit-fire hatred.

Bells avoided Takato like the plague when he came to town. The blond didn’t want to deal with the confrontation, mostly staying away from Duke’s and letting the Knight come to him. Which was fine, it kept the peace for the most part. Both knew it was better to keep the peace than to drive a rift through a family, Bell experienced it first hand in his youth and hated every waking second of it. And Mr. and Mrs. Matsuki didn’t mind, they didn’t like seeing their baby keep the best part of his life a secret just to make Takato happy, but, they would stay silent about it for their sakes. However, this time was different.

It was Duke’s 21st birthday, and damn it all to Hell if he wasn’t going to spend it with the love of his life and his family. And so far, it was awesome! Waking up to Bell in his red button-up for work, donuts that the blond had stashed in his cupboards the night before, and “good morning and happy birthday” sex! The other Knight’s -apart from Magna- got him some fancy sweets from the fancy pastry shop he loved but couldn’t afford and a card with a handful of twenties from them all -even Magna, though he doubted it was willingly! He was let off early to enjoy the rest of his birthday, and he went out to lunch with Saint, Sakuya, Bell and Cal, who was mentally and physically everywhere else, and paid for the entire thing with a thick stack of cash that should not have been in the possession of a twenty-something-year-old with the mental capabilities of a 10-year-old. Then some afternoon cuddling on the floor of Bells’ apartment with the windows open and sun shining directly on them. It was perfect all day.

Now, was not.

Duke and Bell were having dinner at his parent’s house and Takato was going to be there. Bell honestly tried to excuse himself from the event but Duke wouldn’t let him. It was his birthday and he was going to spend the entirety of it with his boyfriend, whether his brother liked it or not. So here they were. Duke and his father, Takehiro, having a conversation over setting the table. Bell and Duke’s mother, Yoshie, working on dinner in the kitchen, both enjoying their own conversations and jokes. It was nice, it was perfect to Duke, because it was with the most perfect person in his life enjoying his family.

Then, the doorbell rang.

Duke immediately frowned, _couldn’t he wait till after dinner, at least_? Takehiro looked at his youngest with a sad smile, and laid a reassuring hand on his broad shoulder, before walking downstairs. Bell and Yoshie walked out of the kitchen then, Bell holding two glasses of wine, one already having lip marks around the rim. He handed the taller the other glass and kissed his cheek with a sadly soft smile. Yoshie, just smiled at them, never once did she question their relationship and was, honestly, waiting for the day they started dating for years. Maybe it was a mother thing; just knowing when something was right.

The sound of Takehiro and Takato talking could be heard coming up the stairs now. Duke instinctively pulled Bell close by the waist, a defensive reflex. Bell glanced at him knowingly, and gave him one more kiss on the cheek before untangling Duke’s hand from his hip. Takehiro emerged first from the spiral staircase, saying something over his shoulder about how “traffic usually is bad around this time”, then Takato.

Takato had grown taller since he left, not nearly as tall as Duke, but was tall nonetheless. He was up to Duke’s eye-line in height, just an inch taller than Bell anyway. His messy brown hair now a cleaner trendy medium cut, his hair mussed into a spiky crest, and bleached a little to a lighter brown with slightly darker roots. His old dingy yellow goggles were traded in, final, for some vintage aviator goggles that dangled from his neck. His jaw had a faint dusting of stubble, primarily on his chin, where it was slightly thicker, his upper lip dusted with an even lighter line of stubble. He had filled out significantly, no longer the awkwardly skinny guy with slightly wider hips than shoulders. He had a wider, more defined upper body, not as built as Duke or Saint but enough to even out his shoulders and waist. The band shirts, that he wore religiously throughout junior and senior year of high school, replaced with a clean dark blue button-up under his plain dark and electric blue letterman jacket. His black jeans were moderately clean, dirt and mud stained the cuffs and one knee was ripped and the green kicks would apparently never go out of fashion to him -even if they were grimy with dirt.

Takato was excited, smiling widely as he climbed the stairs, holding a colorful bag with a card sticking out a little. “Happy 21st, little bro!” He chimed as he got to the top step, still not seeing Bell with his father in the way.

“Hey, Takato.” Duke managed a smile, though forced and, more or less, faked. He glanced sideways at Bell, who was standing with his mother now, also forcing a happy look. He would have pulled it off too, if his neck muscles didn’t look ever so slightly strained. Returning his attention back to Takato, the older had put the bag down and was coming over for a hug. There opposing arms grabbed each other by the elbow and leaned in with free arms patting the other on the back twice, before leaning back and letting go.

Then Takato looked over to greet his mother, smile instantly dropping at the sight of Bell. Who looked like a model in Duke’s opinion; slim and full of something that isn’t in someone’s normal stance, his wine glass in hand, and his apparel giving the illusion that he was at an event better than just dinner at your boyfriend's parent’s house. A dark purple button-up, the sleeves folded up and flaring out at his elbows, the top two buttons unbuttoned, black jeans that looked like dress pants. His normal boots traded in for some simpler, short black ones, letting his natural height prevail over his heels this time. His tattoos in view, his glasses on and his hair mussed perfectly as always. The slight smile making him seem more adult about the situation than he actually was happy with.

“Beelz, what a surprise.” Takato forced. Obviously trying very hard to be somewhat controlled.

“Wondrous to see you as well, Takato.” Bell forced back, sounding perfectly fine compared to the older.

Takato nodded. And turned to finally greet his mother with a kiss and a hug. Bell and Duke looked between each other, Bell still holding his facade of happiness, yet it was genuine when he looked at the taller. Duke smiled, at least nothing bad was happening yet, knock on wood, things stayed that way.

After greetings were exchanged, Yoshie heard one of the timers go off in the kitchen and ushered Bell to come help her with the cooking. Leaving the three alone to finish dressing the table. Takato taking the opportunity to address Bell's presence.

“So, uh. What, um, what is Beelz doing here?” He said, voice hitting the peak that issued he wasn’t necessarily pleased. Duke was sweating bullets, and glanced at his father helplessly, not knowing whether to spit it out or to wait a little longer so dinner wasn’t nearly as tense as it would be if he did. Thankfully, Yoshie, chimed out to them at that time.

“Takato, sweetie, would you like some wine? We need another person to help finish it, since your father isn’t going to have some.” She stepped out through the door holding said bottle of wine for him to look at.

“Sure mom. But only one, I still got to drive back.” He responded, and Yoshie nodded before slipping back into the kitchen.

“Still driving that moped or did you get a new car?” Takehiro asked afterwards, trying to skew the original line of question. Takato fell for it easy, going on a long tangent to the fifty-year-old that started with “first off, the moped is great, and is just as reliable as a car, thank you very much.” Then proceeding to rant about his new car, which a three-time previously owned, used car was far from. By the time Takato was done talking about the stuff he had done to the car, and all the things he was going to do to it -which all completely flew over Duke’s head, because Bell was the car guy in the relationship; Duke preferred being the cook- Yoshie was telling them that dinner was ready.

The food was brought out and everyone was seated; Takehiro and Yoshie taking either end of the table, Duke and Bell sitting next to one another on one side while Takato sat across from them, a look of judgment on his face as he watched Duke push in Bell’s seat for him. They filled their plates, toasted for Duke’s birthday, then started eating silently. This silence carried on for some time before some conversation came out about school and work, then shifted quickly to Takato’s new car. Which Bell chocked a little over.

“Wait, you bought a three-time previously owned car for two-thousand bucks, with no lights and no brakes?” The DL gawked at the older male, a look of disbelief plain on his face.

Takato responded cockily, “Yeah. What, you impressed about-”

“You’re an idiot.” Takato’s smug face dropped instantly at Bell’s statement. “I wouldn’t even lay five-hundred on something like that, unless I was scrapping the thing for parts.” Silence spread over the table as Takato looked deeply offended by the statement.

“Oh, like you know-” Takato tried to start, but Bell raised a hand to silence him, then proceeded to explain.

“I’m a mechanic, who works on everything from luxury cars to scrap on wheels. Nothing that goes through me, leaves without getting a background check.” He stated, bluntly looking at the male across from him. “With a car like the one you’re describing, I’d say it’s barely seven-years-old, has had multiple wrecks and problems, and was attempted scrap at one point. Before being turned over to you, just to make twice the amount it would be worth pulled apart and sold that way. Thus, you’re an idiot, and pouring a lot of time and money into something not even worth a third of what you paid for it. You’re better off selling what you got as pieces and scrap, and buying yourself a regular used car.”

Silence spread over the table as Takato gawked at the statement. Bell just looked him plainly, Duke was trying to hold back cracking a smile, because he knew Tatako was outdone by the blond. And before the tension could take shape in a more violent form, Yoshie stepped in with questioning Takato’s current career. Takato was so easy to side-track.

Apparently, the older was working at an old game shop, a little hole-in-the-wall place that was run by an avid collector for old table top games. Mostly they sold Dungeons and Dragons related stuff, pieces and dice, books and things. But they had a variety of card games; Magic, Munchkins, and some Digicards -which got the two across from him to cringe and shiver slightly. But the older loved his job and was learning to play some of the games, even if he was terrible at them.

And, again, by the time he was done, dinner was practically over. Yoshie asked Bell to help her with taking plates away, which he did so kindly, leaving the three alone again, where Takehiro was asking Duke about college and work.

“College is great, Romantics, Philosophy, English, not my favorite topics but if it means getting my diploma then it's the best thing in the world to me. Course Bell is a lot better at-”

“Bell?” Takato interrupted quickly. A crack of a nervous smile on his face “Who’s Bell?” Duke got slightly red at the question, never having explained Beelz’ nickname before to the older. “Your girlfriend?”

“No.” Duke looked off to the side and mumbled quietly, “Boyfriend.”

Takato’s face dropped for probably the tenth time that night. “What?”

“I have a boyfriend.” Duke said calmly, still not looking at Takato. “He’s my boyfriend.”

At that moment, Bells came out of the kitchen to grab some more plates but was pulled away by Takehiro, saying he needed to talk to him for a moment. The two disappeared down the hall to the balcony at the back of the building. Leaving Duke and Takato to discuss. However, the only conversation they were having was silence. The kind of silence that made Bell lose his mind. The one that made even a normal man want to break things just to hear something other than deaf nothingness.

“You never answered my questions from earlier.” Takato broke the silence, he was stern but hushed as he spoke the words. “Why is he here and who is Bell?”

“Beelz his nickname is Bells, Bell for short.” Duke paused breathing deeply, before finally looking the brunette in the eye. “And he’s here because we’ve been dating for the last five years.”

Takato gawked at the younger, he didn’t look mad but he didn’t look pleased either. He seemed more lost than anything. Like the idea had never passed his mind before in his life. Like he had never seen the way Duke and Bell looked at each other, how they touched for a little too long, how they talk to each other, how they were when they were young. Many people knew they liked each other, even when they were in the eighth grade. Why was Takato so blind to it?

“You, he-...Why?” The older floundered completely and utterly lost. He looked at the tan haired male, really looked at him like he had just met a stranger that changed his life in a single sentence. “Do mom and dad know?”

Duke swallowed hard. “They’ve known since we started dating, heh, mom had a bet with Ms. Okui on when we’d officially start dating.” He cracked a grin over the sour humor of the memory of his mom, mumbling curses as she slapped a wad of cash in Sayuri’s hand during tea when they told her.

Takato however wasn’t laughing, in fact, he looked like he was about to get up and leave altogether. “Why did you never tell me? You tell mom and dad but not your big brother?” His voice rising in anger, sounding betrayed. Didn’t Duke trust his own brother that he was so close to?

“Because you hate Bell. Mom and dad don’t. Our families have been close for years, before we even became friends. They care about him just as much as they care about you and me. And you know nothing because you can’t get your head out of your ass.” Duke responded bluntly. Looking at the brunette aggressively, like the other had no idea who they were talking about.

Takato looked as though he was going to respond but stopped, thinking on it and remaining silent. He knew whatever he was about to say was a lie, that the whole “I support you no matter what” was total shit, he hated Bell. Just because his little brother was dating him didn’t change anything. If fact, he hated him more now. Bell was probably manipulating Duke just to get at Takato. Probably not, but the idea still set an assumption.

“Why?” Takato spat. “What about him makes you like him that much?”

Duke wasn’t shocked about the question; many people had asked them before what about the other made them like each other enough to date and be together for five years. To Bell it was complicated explanation that started when they first met all the way to high school and then now. For Duke, it was the simplest answer.

“I feel complete when I’m with him.” The younger stated simply. There wasn’t anything complicated about it, it was a feeling an attachment that left him knowing the blond was his one and only. “I love him, and he’s the only one that will ever make me feel that way.”

Takato looked flabbergasted. Yet, internally, he could understand it. Jerri was his first and only, and he would rather die than “see other people”. Jerri always said she felt the same as well. So, he understood the feelings and the meaning behind it. But he still couldn’t get past the fact that his little brother was dating Beelz Okui. For god sake, the guy was barely considered human when he was in middle school.

“My turn to ask the questions now.” Duke said gaining confidence. “Why do you hate him so much?” The responding silence was back again.

The brunette looked at him, but wasn’t looking at him. Takato just looked in his direction never really looking at the person that was there, he was thinking, trying to come up with a rational response that didn’t sound as stupid as it truly was. But there truly was no getting around it.

“...He’s not normal, he’s not human. ...He’s-...He’s not worth caring about. Not worth calling a person. He’s obnoxious, and angry, and cynical, and rude, and, and he’s not someone you should be with.” Takato spat, pulling everything he knew about the blond, granted that was very little. Takato was slowly seething in his seat the more he talked about the other. Duke, on the other hand.

Duke was laughing, humored that his own brother was talking about Bell when they were younger, back when he was the salty little Imp that had just barely gotten introduced to a proper family environment. Yes, Bell was all of those things and eighty more, but he had long since stopping all of them at once. Bell was obnoxious to some, angry and cynical when he really wasn’t in the mood, rude when he was being blunt, and if Takato thought Bell was someone Duke shouldn’t be affiliated with, well, Takato didn’t know Duke either.

Takato looked at the long-haired male with a quizzical look. Why was he laughing, his own brother just insulted his boyfriend?

“Wow! You really don’t know Bell do you? For the gods’ sakes, you don’t even know me if you think we shouldn’t be together.” Duke was smiling brightly at the other, making him more confused. “You're still holding a grudge against him because of how he was when we first met him? Really? Bell has changed so much since then, especially since we started dating!”

“So, you’ve made him change?” Takato questioned.

“He did it on his own, I just brought him out of his shell. I loved him the way he was before and I’ll love him the same way till the end.” Duke then became very serious, leaning forward on his elbows. “And weather you like it or not I always will love him. But you can either hold onto your petty childhood hatred for him and leave or you can be an adult.” He took in a deep breath and gave the other a very stern look. “Because I swear I’m going to marry him one day and no one is going to convince me otherwise.”

Takato, who shouldn’t have been able to be shocked any more than he has been, looked as though he was about to fall out of his chair. By the end of the night he would probably have grey hair with how much he was learning in one night. The brunette stared at Duke, knowing well he wasn’t joking with the older, and looking stern about the topic and that he wasn’t going to be moved on the stance. Leaving the older one two options and two options only; get over himself or get out of the house. And he assumed mom and dad were going to fully backer Duke in is decisions, he was younger, had his life together, saw and talked to them more than Takato did, fact, he worked at the bakery with them. They probably assumed he would take over the business for them after they were gone.

He sat their staring at the younger, thinking over his options. He loved his family he really did, he knew he’d always need them and always would. But he hated Bell. It might have seemed like an easy decision to most but his hate burned strong. Hate blinds moral decisions to the point of being the utter most stupid decisions to ever be made. Yet he wasn’t blind, and damn right he had the most heartwarming conscious in the city.

“Fine.” He had spat, raising his hands in a submissive fashion. “Fine. It’s your life you can do what you want. God forbid, I stand between you and your happiness. I still don’t like him.” He said looking a Duke sternly. “But, I guess I can try and be better, for you.” He turned his hands over to be palms up gesturing that he was open and willing to do just that.

Duke smiled broadly, getting up and walking over to hug the older in one of his bear hugs, saying a broad “thank you” to him sweetly. A responding sigh of “you’re welcome” and the feeling of a smile on the Takato’s face was all he needed.

Duke then went to go find his father and Bell out on the balcony as Takato went to go help his mother in the kitchen. The tan haired male walked down the hall to where the sliding door was, seeing it open slightly and his father and Bell were both leaning over the railing, Takehiro facing out at the city, Bell leaning back on his elbows propped on the railing looking at the sky. The Knight was going to tell them they could come in when.

“You love him a lot, don’t you?” Takehiro muttered, turning to side eye the blond, raising a beer to his lips. The Lord doing the same with his cigarette, Duke knew Bell smoked a little, he and Sayuri had a pact to only smoke together during trying times, as well as to never tell BB or the kids about it. Yet seeing the other do it felt like he just stumbled on the other’s big dirty secret. Course Bell had many of them and he doubted he’d ever learn about all of them, but still.

The blonde took a long drag from his cigarette, and blew a thick stream of opaque smoke into the air. “He’s the greatest thing to ever happen in my life.” He said in a watery voice, smothering the cigar out in the soil of a flower pot. Grabbing at his glasses and pulling them off his face as he leaned forward to rub at his eyes with his other hand, thick crystalline tears dripping from his watery green eyes. His body slid down into a crouched position against the railing, the arm with his glasses fell over his legs, draping over his lap as he mercilessly scrubbed at his eye with the heel of his palm. Sniffling hopelessly as he muttered out words.

“He was the first one to reach out to me. He was the first to say “I don’t hate you for what happened to you, even if I don’t know what it was.” He was the first to tell me we were friends. He was my first; my first kiss, my first love and lover, my first forever, and my only eternity.” Bell is hiccupping, he drops his glasses to scrub at his face even more with both hands. Takehiro had put his beer down and was also crouched down, his one arm pushing the blond locks from his face, his other hand pulling a handkerchief from his pocket. Wiping at the thick rivulets before handing it to Bells’ fully, to wipe at his other eye. Calming down a bit the Lord continued. “I love him so much it hurts. I love him and I feel horrible because of it, because he’s perfect, because he deserves better than some abused, neglected, and abandoned drug child who can barely look at his own brother without seeing the miserable face of a six-year-old who just saw mom OD on heroin while dad’s pulling down her pants again.”

Takehiro says nothing for a few moments, waiting to see if Bell would continue again. When he didn’t, Takehiro spoke. “When I was ten-years-old, my father walked out on me and my mother. My mother felt awful about it, she blamed herself for months that he let because she wasn’t a good wife. And it got to me as well, I started blaming myself too, that I wasn’t a good enough son. It haunted both of us for years because of it. And by the time I met Yoshie, I had already left three girlfriends, each lasting no longer four months, because I didn’t feel good enough for them.” Takehiro turned with a grunt to crouch similarly to Bell, looking up at the sky. “Yoshie asked me, and after a few months I thought of her as the greatest thing in my life as well, and I felt sick about it, she was perfect, too perfect for me. And I told her that, when I was trying to break up with. But, she started laughing, laughing her perfect laugh. Obviously, I was confused, and then she told me, “Do you really think I’m going to let the most perfect guy I’ve met walk away from me because he thinks he’s not perfect?”. She told me I was the most amazing genuine person she’d ever met, and she had no intention of ever letting me believe otherwise.” Takehiro turned to Bell, who returned the look, he continued. “Six months later she asked me to marry her, after we got takeout from our favorite sushi bar and snuck into the arcade after closing. She purposed to me right in front of Polybius machine right under the neon disco ball.”

Bell chuckled a little and smiled sweetly, Takehiro shared the smile and they both looked up at the night sky. Bell wiping away a couple more tears before saying, “Sayuri told me that you two had a neon disco ball at your wedding, and had Polybius buttons on under your clothes.” He chuckled, Takehiro did the same and nodded.

“Yep. Sayuri was one of Yoshie's bride’s maids and she wore one, too.” They chuckled. Leaving the space quiet between them. Takehiro continued, “You love him a lot, don’t you?”

“He’s the greatest thing to ever happen to me.” Bell smiled a tear sliding down his face.

“Then that’s what you are to him.” They looked at each other one more time smiling. Takehiro, reached down and handed Bell his glasses again, having dropped them on the ground at some point in his endeavor to clear his face of the salt water. Then the older man placed his hand on Bells’ shoulder and squeezed it reassuringly, before getting up. “Come on, I think desserts almost ready, and I haven’t heard any door slam while we were gone.”

At that moment, Duke move off, back to the dining room where Yoshie and Takato were setting out clean plates and utensils. Duke felt content at that moment. Relaxed that Takato would try and not be so spiteful of Bell; his main goal conquered. And that his parents took pride in having Bell in the family, that his father could relate to the blonde and give him peace. Yeah, his 21st was the mark of something amazing.


	7. Fight like Hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Layla vs. Rhodonite]

The job was supposed to be simple. Go in, stop the trade, leave. Simple enough. He could get this done and head back home where some quality “Dynasty fresh out of the shower” time could be had. But, no! It had to hit the fan the moment they got there. It had to have a Demon Lord working the gig. And of course, of fucking course, it had to be Layla of all the gods’ damn ones!

Rhodonite wasn’t one to despise people, he was the Knight of Love for god's sakes, hating people would be hypocritical by nature! He didn’t even hate the Demon Lords! Disliked, distrusted, and anger inducing, yes, -apart from Beelz, because he was very sweet outside his DL work. But Layla, Layla was a different story. Layla was a thorn that Rhodonite couldn’t work around like his roses, and she pricked him, and she pricked him hard.

Long before either joined the Knight and Lords, back in their youthful days, Layla and Rhodonite were neighbors and avid senpai and kohai. Layla, who was a few years older than Rhodonite, was a level of passion that the pinkette strived to become. For many years, they were friends, never once did Layla question Rhodonite’s gender-fluidity. However, she did ask about proper pronouns, which was appreciated, -male pronouns. And never once did Rhodonite question Layla about some of her romantic decisions, mostly involving herself in his love life and dumping her exes on him here and there. And for many years they stayed that way, until Rhodonite was in college, where he met Dynasty. Rhodonite and Dynasty almost instantly fell for one another, and had danced around the other for months, they had mingled and flirted softly together, yet they never really asked the question. Until Layla decided that she wanted him. Dynasty thankfully was uninterested in the woman and had asked Rhodonite out soon after. However, a rift was driven between the two and had never recovered.

Now, they were practically sworn enemies. Rhodonite still holding onto Layla’s betrayal to them, Layla holding her pride above an apology. And now with this bust, Rhodonite had a bruised rib and cut on his left cheek. With the police taking care of the underlings in the other room it was just them and Layla, who had a few bruises on her sides with a matching cut on her collarbone. Even in heels, she could kill a man and then do the salsa on their corpse.

“Long time no see-.”

“Shut. Up.” He spoke between grit teeth. He knew Layla’s game like the back of his hand; talking. She was one for charm, toying emotionally with others to get what she wanted. She was true snake in the grass that was too beautiful to ignore.

“Aw, why so cold? We used to be such good friends back-”

“Yeah “used to”, not anymore.” The violent expression that hallowed his face was cold and dark. Deathly serious in his words.

Layla was never one to take much seriously, except when it was her on the line. She was vain, egotistical, deceiving, and just plain psychopathic in most ways. Course all of this made her perfect for a role like a Demon Lord, and, with a little more bloodshed, a criminal case. She had emotion and cared a little more than most of her fellow associates, as far as he knew, but still she was an arrogant, self-centered woman. However, Rhodonite was no better, he was her apprentice for a reason.

Layla snickered. “Still mad about Dynasty all those years ago, I was only kidding, you know. Course, I wouldn’t have minded if I had landed a man like that. Could have seen if he really lived up to the title “Knight of Pass-”.”

There was a blow to Layla’s upper stomach, a rage driven strike that had the female gasping for proper air afterwards. She stumbled backwards, still managing to stand. Her heel went back and she spun, the back kick stabbing the point of her heel into his rib, a muffled click rung out as Rhodonite was sent back several feet. Finding stability once more, he stood hunched, cradling the splintered rib with his bruised arm. Layla still struggled to take proper breathes, standing similarly to the other. Even in situations like this, they were both so similar but still different in the pains they inflicted on one another.

“You really never let go of it, did you?” Layla asked coughing slightly from the pain.

“Why should I? You’re the one who doesn’t know how to apologies for being an asshole friend. If you ever even were a friend to begin with.” Rhodonite spat venomously.

“Ouch! So, rude for someone who’s supposed to love.” Layla mocked a sorrowful look and clutched at her chest with the arm not clutching her lower chest.

“Like I’m supposed to love someone who tried stealing the very person I was interested in. You don’t care who you hurt Layla, not even the person that looked up to you.” Rhodonite pointed out accusingly at the woman.

Layla’s smug look fell at that point, really seeing the anger and hurt that Rhodonite had in his green eyes. Saw the anger and hurt, the anger and hurt she had inflicted on him all those years ago; the hurt that only a true friend could inflict on someone. The pain of a friend who knew their feelings for a person and walked all over the bond just to prove something. Yeah, she felt bad about it, but he won. He had Dynasty and they were happy together, weren’t they? Yes, she never apologized, but it was all to prove to the pinkette how easy it was to ask someone out.

“You know, I never meant it when I asked him out. I was just proving a point to you.”

“Who proves a point about something like that, with the very person they want?!” Rhodonite howled. The very memory of it brought anger to his core at the memory of Layla looking up at Dynasty, the towering brute he was, and asking him if wanted to go on a date. He was seething in his seat as he watched Dynasty do a double take on her, and subsequently decline the offer stumbling over his response.

Layla, looking back on it and seeing his point, responded. “Point taken.” As she regained more of her stance. “But, I never said who he was going on a date with.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel bad? Feel stupid, apologetic? That I’m the one who's done the most wrongs here?” Rhodonite appeared sickeningly violent, anger rising in the veins of his neck. But his voice remained no more violent than it was. Walking slowly, a snail's pace of a step, to Layla. “You always do this. Always have, always will. You always spin it around to try and blame someone else for things, make them feel like they’re the bad guy. That you’re right, and they’re wrong. That you couldn’t do a single wrong, and someone else is the miserable waste trying to frame perfect little Layla. Beautiful, perfect, little Layla can do no wrong. I’ve known you long enough, Layla, I know your game. I learned from you, you taught me everything you know, but you never taught me everything.”

At this Rhodonite was close enough, he sank low to the floor both hands as a balance as his leg, fully extended across the floor, swept across in a circle dragging his metal heel across the flooring, making a few sparks as he swept Layla’s legs out from under her. She fell forward with the weight of her body; falling onto Rhodonite, who had put both legs beneath him in a frog like stance, then using all the force in his legs, launched himself up, fist bared to the same spot as before. Layla had little to no time to react, landing squarely on the bony knuckles of Rhodonite’s fist. The sound of her sternum bowing and cracking against it, Layla rasped and gagged gutturally, breathing cut off completely as her body pushed her farther down on the upward force. Equalizing and countering, Rhodonite continued forcing upward, pushing and throwing Layla back a few feet.

She landed on her back, bounced, rolling sideways then landing again on her front. Her kimono fluttering beautifully, falling off her shoulders and into the crooks of her elbows. She heaved and gasped harshly on the floor, hardly moving outside propping herself up on her elbows and a knee. Head hanging low between her shoulders, her hairpiece falling out leaving her long raven hair draped over her shoulders and back.

Rhodonite stood over her then, staring down at the black and purple snake that was Layla. Only comparable to a movie scene; the hero defeating their ex-partner-turned-villain. _Just say something cool and meaningful, you might feel less shitty then._ The thought was cold and sarcastic, something boring and bland like off-brand food. Some plastic-like taste arose in his mouth at the idea of some cheesy regurgitated line to say, and refrained from saying such.

Layla rolled over after several minutes of gasping and heaving. Looking up at Rhodonite, too far away for her to attack him, not like she wanted to at that moment. She was tired, not afraid to fight when she had to, but Demon Lords had a history of running away out of self-preservation as well as a bad history with cops. Appearing cowardly in illegal operations was a better outcome then landing in a cop car.

She laid there for some time longer looking at the Knight, but he wasn’t looking at her, figuratively anyway. He was looking at her literally, but he wasn’t seeing her, rather looking at the very spot she was in. Something in him was clicking like a flint-less lighter, sparks but no fire. He was thinking about something, a memory or idea that had little to presence in his brain.

He wasn’t going to fight her anymore. Not today anyway. It was plain on his face. He wanted to leave as well, be rid of her and be done with the day. Even with little to no light in the room, the exception being the light from the light post outside shining through the high window, meaning it was primarily shadows everywhere. It was snowing outside. It was cold.

Layla slowly got up. Achingly slow. A slowness that showed Layla’s injuries and a little of her age as well; fighting a thirty-seven-year-old while being forty-one would do that to you. She wobbled a little on her heels, thinking about taking them off and walking out to the rendezvous in her stockings, remembering the snow and how cold it would be, she decided against it and continued to hold her wounded ribcage with her arm as she slowly, ever so slowly, walked past Rhodonite. Who didn’t move even one single inch. Still staring at that one spot on the floor. The one wet puddle of blood where Layla was coughing.

“See you around I guess… Old friend.” Layla said quietly, walking out leisurely, into the night to reconvene with another DL somewhere.

Rhodonite didn’t say anything. Didn’t do anything. He stood there in silence, not going after her, not walking away; nothing. He did nothing. Let it all sink in, no movie ending where the two ex-partners went their own ways, with their own journeys to set off on; no. It was a saddening stance never understanding the piece he still hadn’t found. Yeah, a sad twisted ending for the main character, one where no true conclusion is met and the ending isn’t the true end of it all. Just another part of life soured and fermented by time. Just another space of time to get ready for the next time, the time to fight like hell again.


End file.
